Better in the Long Run
by athenasmirror
Summary: Evelyn learns of Matthew's death and reflects on his own history with Mary Crawley. Series 4-almost entirely canon, but from Evelyn's point of view.
1. The Whole Ghastly Business

It was just an autumn day—a little overcast, maybe, but not unusually so. Evelyn had no way to know that today was the day his life would change forever, in tragic ways, yet ultimately for the better.

He walked from his flat to the office, as usual. The office was dim and smelled of cigarettes, as usual. His boss, Charles Blake, had beaten him to work. As usual.

"Evelyn I want you to look over some of the estates mentioned on page three. See if any of them are worth including in our study." Charles thrust a newspaper in Evelyn's chest then walked off. This was not unusual.

Evelyn was in no hurry to read the article. Well, that is to say, of course he was busy, but things were never quite as urgent as Charles always seemed to believe. So he poured himself tea and found a scone to eat, and then he sat to read about the estates on page three.

It was a York paper, which meant Charles intended to go up north at some point. On the front page was the picture of a man Evelyn had met one time at a dinner party eight years prior. And there, just above this picture, was the newspaper caption that changed Evelyn Napier's life:

**Heir to the Earl of Grantham dies in tragic motoring accident.**

Evelyn read on, feeling a mix of sadness, horror, dread, and one other emotion that he didn't want to name.

_Oh, dear God, no. Not Mary. Not him._

They had a son—an infant son. He didn't know they'd had a son. He had fought in the war, in the trenches—that much Evelyn already knew. But it was painfully ironic that one of his comrades (albeit quite an indirect comrade) should live through that horror just to die in a car crash.

"So what do you think? Shall we add those estates to our studies?"

Evelyn broke away from the front page. Charles was back. "The estates? Oh…of course. Well," he blushed slightly, "as it turns out I learned from the front page that a family friend died just this week, so in truth I haven't even glanced at those estates yet."

Evelyn expected that Charles would be annoyed—not angry, but annoyed. That was sort of Charles's thing. He was not expecting his boss to laugh. But he did, for a moment, then as if he realized just what Evelyn had just said (death and all that) his face became quickly sober. "You have my condolences, my friend. Shall I leave you for a while, or can I go over the estates in question with you now?"

Now Evelyn was the one annoyed, but he wasn't about to let that show. "Now is fine. But you know we won't have a chance to go north for some time, probably months. We have several estates lined up to study already."

"Of course I know that. But look here…"

As Charles droned on about estate management and death taxes, Evelyn thought about Mary Crawley. He thought about her smile, and her eyes. He thought about how warm she had been in her letters to him—and how cold she was to him from the moment she set eyes on Kemal Pamuk. Evelyn tried to remind himself that this was a widow, that she was most certainly beside herself with grief. And here he was trying to push away this annoying feeling of hope.

He thought of Mary Crawley into the evening and into the nighttime hours. He tried to tell himself that these were thoughts of sympathy but he knew there was more to it than that. Mary Crawley had haunted his thoughts and his dreams for eight years.

The last time he'd seen Mary Crawley there was no war on the continent, only rumors. Dozens of his school friends were not yet dead. And they had both been so damn young.

He had told her about his broken engagement, said that it was "probably better this way, in the long run." And had that been a flash of hope in Mary's eyes? For years he wished that he had asked her that day if she would ever reconsider him. But instead he had forged on with the mission to clear his name as the instigator of her own set of ugly rumors, and, frankly, who wanted to talk of romance after that? Instead he had kept silent and those unsaid words would not let him go.

Once, during the war, he sent her a letter asking if he could convalesce in her home. But he couldn't, there were rules about these things, and that was that. The war ended, he recovered (physically, at least—the rest took longer), and she got engaged to a newspaper magnate and then after that her cousin, her father's heir.

It seemed like all things in life had worked out nicely for Mary Crawley and Evelyn believed her dark eyes and his unsaid words would stop haunting him. And for eighteen months they nearly had. Until today and that damn York newspaper.


	2. Why Not Take a Chance?

Evelyn had started pacing in the evenings. No one was there to see it in his London flat, of course. But pace he did. It was less than a fortnight until he and Charles were scheduled to leave for Yorkshire and he not yet decided whether (or not) to call on Lady Mary Crawley while he was there.

Would she think he was pursuing courtship? She would be in at least half mourning for some time still; even if she was interested it was beyond the bounds of propriety. For now, at least.

Yet at some point they had been friends, hadn't they? And it was only polite and natural for a friend to express feelings of sympathy and condolences in person if occasion should permit.

Evelyn wrestled with this on the train from London. He'd be going back to return with Charles later, and the train was not even half full, so he had ample opportunity to try and chase Mary from his brain during his journey. He failed, of course. She was all he could think of anymore.

He was walking through Thirsk when he finally came to a decision.

_Oh, hell. I want to see her. Why not take a chance?_

Evelyn had hoped that making up his mind would calm his nerves. It didn't. He knocked on her front door with one hand while the other hand shook. Well, fidgeted, anyway.

The butler answered. What was his name? Carter? Cardston? Mary had mentioned it once. Evelyn heard himself ask for her just as occurred to him that she might not even be there.

After it was over, some details of the encounter were lost to him forever while others were blazed in his memory. He was led to the library and she was at a writing desk, her hair shining in waves and she wore a lovely blouse of plum that made her eyes—her eyes! _Did they, did she, what was that spark? Happiness? Only surprise? But a pleasant surprise, right?_

His mouth opened and words tumbled out. "Hello, Mary." _Wait, is that appropriate, with years gone and her marriage and widow…ness?_ Evelyn begged his skin not to blush. "If I can still call you Mary."

She was standing to greet him, walking toward him. "Of course you can! How lovely." Mary was smiling, beaming even. She kissed his cheek.

_She kissed my cheek!_ What exact words he said after that or even how he managed to find words, Evelyn did not know. _Am I rambling on about the government? Bugger. Did I really just say reconnoitering?_ "I was Thirsk and I suddenly thought 'Why not take a chance?'" _Did I just say that? Oh dear God, why? So much for subtlety._

But if Mary noticed anything off, Evelyn couldn't tell. "Well, I'm so glad you did." _She's…glad? She's glad! And standing there, and perfect. Wait, now something about tea. Tell her now, Evelyn, tell her…_

"While I've got you alone, you've been in my thoughts a great deal…since the whole…ghastly business." Evelyn felt his hands fidgeting again.

"That's nice to know." Mary was still beaming. _This is good. This is good…_

"Which is why it's lovely to see you looking so, um…" _Oh, damn, why can't I think of any other word? Any word. Really. _"Lovely." _Well don't I sound well-educated._

But Mary smiled and looked down, her cheeks blushing. Then up again and Evelyn saw her that her eyes shone as they did when he walked in. And as he looked at her he said nothing because he could think of only one thing, one word repeating itself in his mind.

_Mary._


	3. Being Witty

"This came for you in the evening post."

Evelyn looked up to see the letter. He recognized the handwriting immediately. "Thank you, Alonzo." He opened the letter eagerly.

_Dear Evelyn,_

_I assure you that I was sincere in my invitation. You and Mr. Blake are most welcome to stay at Downton while you work on your report. Your advice and knowledge on estate management would be quite valuable and welcome. I look forward to enjoying your company again soon._

_Sincerely,  
>Mary<em>

He read the letter three times before putting it down. It was brief and down to business. But then there was that last line—_I look forward to enjoying your company again soon._ Soon. So perhaps her reasons for wanting to see him were not strictly related to her estate? Or had she simply wanted to be polite?

Nearly a decade of friendship with Lady Mary, and Evelyn had yet to figure her out.

Evelyn allowed himself to think about Mary Crawley during his walk to the office. It was a new luxury to him—certainly he had thought about her over the years. But he had tried very hard not to. After her rejection he had vowed to put Mary behind him.

Evelyn was happy with his life. He'd courted his fair share of eligible young women, and he was well traveled. He had not pined for Mary; but neither had he forgotten her. And now that a horrible twist of fate had allowed her back into his life, all of his suppressed feelings, all of the "what ifs" he'd carried with him to the war and beyond rushed back to the surface.

He knew he had to tread carefully. Evelyn realized that Mary had been as pleased to see him as he had been to see her, but that could mean many things. Had she thought about him over the years as well? He hoped to find the answer to that someday but he wanted it to be on her terms. He absolutely would not push her.

Evelyn thought about Mary somewhat less on the drive north. Charles was eager to discuss the failing estates, and Evelyn had to admit he found this fascinating in its own right. Both he and Charles would have their own estates someday, and the information they would gather for their report would be invaluable in keeping those estates afloat for generations to come.

"Are you sure, Charles, that you don't want me to mention your cousin and the estate in Ulster? It might put the Crawleys at ease to know that you share their concerns."

Evelyn could feel Charles's eyes turn to him as he drove the Fiat. "You know I don't like to bring that up, Evelyn. I do see your point, but I don't want them to think I share their prejudices, because I don't. And many an aristocrat would benefit from a fresh opinion."

Evelyn sighed. "All right, then, Charles. I won't mention it to them. But I think you'll find that this isn't a family that's going to pack it in and walk away. I've known Mary Crawley for many years; she is spirited and determined. Her son will inherit the estate someday and I can't see her as the kind to let that go."

Charles looked over Evelyn, trying to read his expression. "Well. We shall see if she lives up to your description or not."

"And soon, too. That's Downton just up around that corner there."

Evelyn expertly pulled the Fiat to a stop in front of the large wooden doors. Evidently they had seen them drive up, as the stately butler and a handsome blond footman stood waiting for them. Evelyn walked into the house, followed by Charles. He couldn't deny that he very much looked forward to seeing Mary again.

She was walking down the main staircase as they arrived, followed closely behind by her mother. Mary smiled when she saw him, her eyes shining as they had at their last meeting. Evelyn felt as if gravity pulled him to Mary more than it kept him on the earth.

"It's so kind of you all to have us," Evelyn began. He fully expected Charles to chime in but instead there was silence. "Isn't it, Charles?" _Hmm. I hope none of them think I was condescending. I suppose that could have just been nerves on his part._

"It is."

Mary was still smiling. "We're anxious to do our bit."

Charles appeared to be puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

Now it was Mary who seemed out of sorts. "Well, you're here to advise the land owners on how to get through this crisis, aren't you?" She glanced at Evelyn then back at Charles. "To save the estates that need saving?" Evelyn froze momentarily. When had he said that? He hadn't meant to give anyone the wrong impression. But, then, knowing he shared her background, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised by her assumptions.

Evelyn did not fail to notice that Charles and Mary's discussion was beginning to escalate. _Should I step in? No...she's a grown woman. And if she dislikes him, well, all the better for me, I suppose._

He noticed Lady Grantham watched Mary and Charles with both concern and amusement. Lady Edith entered the room with a pretty young blonde girl. He assumed this was the Cousin Rose that Mary had mentioned in her letter. Lord Grantham was not far behind them.

"Hello Evelyn," Edith said brightly. Evelyn smiled and returned the hello. But he certainly didn't want her getting any ideas, so he quickly turned to interject himself into Mary and Charles's debate.

"I'm afraid you may find us disappointing guests if you want us to stay up until two in the morning being witty."

"Don't worry, I don't expect Mr. Blake to be witty." Evelyn tried very hard not to laugh. _Mary_ certainly didn't lack wit.

Lady Grantham spoke up. "The gong is run at seven, and we meet in the drawing room at eight. You know, it's Robert's birthday."

"So you must try to be witty tonight, Mr. Blake," Mary smiled rather wickedly. "After that we'll lower our expectations."

"The girls will show you up," added Lady Grantham, motioning up the stairs.

_I think one of them already has_, thought Evelyn.


	4. Welcome to Take Charge

Evelyn was aware of the chatter of the other diners, but Mary Crawley dominated his thoughts. She was sitting next to Charles, and Charles seemed to get perhaps a little too much amusement from antagonizing Mary. Evelyn wished he wouldn't do that. But Charles was Charles—he might be gentry himself, but he'd be damned if anyone dare take it for granted. But Evelyn knew Mary, knew all of the Crawleys, better than that, and a part of him wished that he could make Charles see that as well. These people were not the kind to just pack it in and call it a day.

"Your friend seems to be putting Mary through her paces."

Evelyn dragged himself back to the present moment; it wasn't easy. He smiled at Lady Grantham.

"I'm afraid Charles is challenged by anyone with a sense of entitlement." Evelyn kept his gaze on Mary as he spoke.

Lady Grantham seemed amused. "You mean Mary feels entitled to take charge."

_Well she's welcome to take charge of me. _

Evelyn felt Lady Grantham's hand on his arm as she chuckled. He froze, half a smile still on his face. He realized that he had spoken those words aloud. _Great. Now she thinks I'm a lecher who can't keep away from her bereaved daughter…and for some reason she finds this funny. _

Lady Grantham continued their conversation. "You ought to see the gardens while you're here. Mary could show you around, I'm sure." She pointed to the wall behind her. "There's an old Greek folly on the east grounds. It's just lovely, and the walk back to the house is quite grand."

_A walk in the gardens._ This took Evelyn back to his last visit to Downton, back before the war. He and Mary had practically been children then. He'd asked her to show him the gardens but she'd declined. Perhaps he could see them yet.

Perhaps—after all this time—Cora Crawley was still on his side.

The night was full of surprises. Lady Rose had booked a London band to play for Lord Grantham's birthday, and Evelyn was delighted to hear live jazz again. Certainly not something he'd expected to have his first night here.

He leaned over to Charles. "I told you this place could be progressive." Charles turned to him. "Hiring a jazz singer doesn't exactly help them turn a profit, Evelyn."

Evelyn sighed. There was no winning with him.

Mary spoke up, and it was then that Evelyn realized she may have heard their exchange. He winced a bit at this, but mostly he enjoyed hearing the melody of her voice as she spoke to his boss.

"You musn't be too discreet. After a while it gets a little dull." Charles grimaced at her words and walked away. Mary stepped over to Evelyn; his heart danced in his chest as she came closer. He couldn't help it.

"You seem to have brought a traitor into our midst." These were strong words, even for Mary. Evelyn turned to her in surprise.

"Not a traitor."

"An enemy then. He's obviously not on our side."

_Will they ever get along? These next few weeks may be _very_ long._ Evelyn longed to ask Mary to dance, but he didn't dare be so forward. It was too soon. He felt his affection for her growing stronger. But her heart, he knew, was still not open.

"I think I'll pay my respects to your grandmother."

Mary smiled warmly at him. "How kind of you."

With a nod, Evelyn walked away from Mary and took a seat next to the Dowager. "Is this your first experience of jazz, Lady Grantham?"

She seemed surprised to see Evelyn, but not displeased. "Oh, is that what it is?" He nodded.

"Do you think any of them know what the others are playing, hmm?"

Evelyn was speechless. He could certainly see where Mary had inherited her wit. "I don't suppose you'd care to dance?"

"I'll take you up on your challenge, Mr. Napier."

He kept the steps to a simple waltz. Evelyn knew better than to try any of newest dance crazes with her. But she was a delightful conversationalist. In a way, it was as if he was glimpsing at Mary fifty years into her future.

"I think we've done enough now," Lady Grantham said as she stopped dancing. "You know, to show that we're good sports."

Ah, so that's why she'd taken him on. Evelyn smiled. "Of course." He was all too aware of Mary dancing with her father as he walked her grandmother back to her chair. He thought he felt her eyes on him, and he fought the temptation to turn and look. However, he found that once he joined Charles near the fireplace he had a wonderful vantage point for observing her.

Evelyn wanted to pinch himself. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? Of Mary and dancing and Downton? He thought again of his conversation with her mother. Maybe, in time, his dream of Mary Crawley could come true, after all.


	5. Blind (part the first)

"Today was quite productive, wouldn't you say, Evelyn?"

Evelyn was driving swiftly, trying to get back to Downton before the oncoming rainstorm. He nodded at Charles.

"It was. I'm quite pleased. Our report is really starting to pick up steam." He paused. "By the way, Mary told me that Lord Grantham will be leaving for America in the morning. We'll want to be sure we're there to see him off."

Charles frowned. "Evelyn, you know that will shorten our work day."

"Well, yes. But I'm sure we can manage. It's the courteous thing to do." _After all, we are staying here on their dime._

Charles conceded. "Have it your way. But don't think I have noticed what you're up to."

_What I'm up to?_ Evelyn was genuinely perplexed. "Whatever do you mean, Charles?"

"I think you're trying to get in Lady Mary's good graces."

Evelyn did not know what to say to this, so he said nothing. His boss wasn't wrong, per se, but he hadn't realized he was being so obvious.

The next morning Evelyn and Charles saw Lord Grantham off to America as promised. After breakfast they, along with Tom Branson and Edith, gathered in the library to wait for the rest of the seeing-off party.

"I hope you don't mind if I sit," Edith said, somewhat absentmindedly, as she settled into the only chair near the tea table. Evelyn would probably thought nothing of this, except that he caught her brother-in-law eyeing her with concern. _Is Lady Edith ill? Perhaps Charles is right. I'm so consumed with Mary that I don't see what's right in front of me._

Lady Rose—or just Rose, as she'd insisted he call her—entered the library with the dowager, who inquired about the pigs.

"Do you think the pigs are a good idea, Mr. Blake?"

Charles lit up. Evelyn had to admit he admired his drive. "It is. The question is whether or not Lord Grantham and Lady Mary fully appreciate what they're taking on."

And there it is, Evelyn thought. He can't resist a chance to knock the aristocrats down a peg…even if he's one himself.

Edith's voice broke into his thoughts. "Mr. Blake is not under Mary's spell."

_Yes. And thank God for that._

Evelyn and Charles stood just near the door as Lord and Lady Grantham walked out, and Evelyn noticed Lady Grantham beaming at him with a knowing look in her eye. _Does this mean she wants me to pursue Mary? That she approves. Surely it's much too soon._

Evelyn considered Lady Grantham's possible approval as he entered the house. _Where _is_ Charles? He was so insistent we leave right after Lord Grantham's departure_. Just then hear heard two voices raised in a challenge. _Of course._

Striding quickly, Evelyn made his way to Charles and Mary. He knew, _he knew_, Mary could stand up for herself. He did. But that did not mean he was about to let his boss bully her. "You look very intense," he spoke to Mary with sincerity.

Mary, true to form, did not miss a beat. "Mr. Blake was just saying that he finds people like you and me infuriating."

Evelyn couldn't help it—this made him angry. _For God's sake, Charles, this family is letting us stay in their home free of charge for more than a fortnight._ "I should point out Charles…"

But Charles wouldn't have it. He threw up his hand and cut Evelyn off. "We must be going or we'll be late." And then he took off.

Evelyn was dismayed. And to make matters worse, Mary's eyes trailed after Charles, her mouth still open in shock. A knot formed in Evelyn's stomach. _She doesn't? Charles? She couldn't._ When she finally turned back to Evelyn he gave her what he hoped looked like a sympathetic glance, then followed his boss out the front door.

He half expected Charles to continue his rant against the Crawley family in the car, but instead he was silent and thoughtful. Or at least he was silent. It wasn't until their return drive that Mary was finally mentioned. "She's aloof, you know. She has no idea what she has gotten herself into with these pigs. It won't work, because _she_ doesn't know how to work. And I doubt she'll try."

Evelyn was quiet. "You don't know her Charles. You've barely met."

Charles snorted. "Just because you are blind to all of Lady Mary's faults does not mean that I am."

_I'm blind to her faults?_ Evelyn did not know what to say, but he could feel heat rising in his cheeks. "She…she can work hard. Downton means everything to Mary."

That evening, Evelyn dressed quickly for dinner. Rather than going down, he paced in his room, rehearsing what he would say to Mary. "I asked you once, long ago, for a walk in the gardens. I don't suppose you could indulge me now?" No, too sentimental. "Would you care for an after-dinner walk with me?" No, too nonchalant.

In the end, it was she who broached the subject, inviting him for a walk the following day.

Evelyn spent the next eighteen hours grinning far more than usual. He made some effort to hide it, but not much. _It's just a walk,_ he told himself. _Yes…but she asked me. A walk in the gardens after all these years._

It had been a good life for Evelyn—years spent working at the foreign office, then of course the war itself was awful (unspeakably so), but in that time he'd found the courage to write to Mary once again. Though he could not convalesce at Downton, her reply had boosted his recovery; he'd kept that letter. And the government work he'd done after the war was rewarding, too. Evelyn had few regrets.

But for the first time in years he let himself wonder what life might have been like if he'd come back to see Mary after the Pamuk disaster. He'd been terribly bitter—between their letters and her invitation to stay he'd arrived with high hopes, only to be thrown over for another man. But so what? Pamuk had seduced his fair share of innocent women, and, Evelyn suspected, his fair share of innocent men. By the end of that visit that man was dead, and perhaps with persistence he'd have won Mary's heart. He was so romantically inclined back then—perhaps he still was—but what if she'd married him and then learned to truly love him in time? Instead their lives went in opposite directions.

Until now. Here at Downton together once again.


	6. Blind (part the second)

After a night of reminiscing and hoping, Evelyn awoke eager for his walk with Mary. She was waiting for him as he left breakfast.

"Are you ready?" her voice lilted. Evelyn nodded. And smiled. And silently told the pack of butterflies in his stomach to calm down already. He clenched his fidgeting hands behind his back to prevent Mary from seeing them.

To Evelyn's dismay, the topic of conversation quickly turned to Charles Blake. _Perhaps I wasn't imagining things yesterday, after all._ Evelyn had no desire to talk badly of his boss, but he wanted to be honest with Mary. "He says you're aloof."

Mary's shocked look was too much. Evelyn chuckled. "Aloof?" demanded Mary. "I hope you stuck up for me."

_Oh, Mary. If only you knew how many times I have._ "Well of course I did, but…" Evelyn stopped suddenly, realizing how close he'd come to revealing too much to her. "Well," he concluded, barely above a whisper.

But Mary would not let him off so easily. She stopped walking and looked up at him. With those eyes, those lovely, lovely brown eyes of hers. "Go on," she prodded.

Damn those eyes. She'd trapped him. _Well, perhaps it's for the best that she knows._ "Charles thinks I'm blind where you're concerned." _There. For good or ill, now it's been said. _

Evelyn studied Mary's face. She did not blush, but she turned her face away quickly—perhaps too quickly. He lips turn up in a smile, but he noticed her swallow, as if composing herself.

Mary turned her face to him again. "We should go in." And without waiting for a response she started back for the house.

For a long time (or at least what felt like a long time) Evelyn stared after her, unable to move. He longed to read Mary's thoughts. His hands twitched behind his back.

Dinner, with continual sarcastic barbs between Charles and Mary, was agonizing for Evelyn. More than once he caught her looking in his direction, only to glance away immediately. _What does that mean? What does any of this mean?_ Evelyn knew he ought to speak more to her, to clarify. But he did not know what to say. And worse, he did not know if she wanted to hear it. _She's a widow—a grieving widow. And I, the idiot, have already shown too much of my emotions to her._

Still unsure where he stood with Mary, Evelyn made plans the next day to dine with friends of his parents. He ought to have done so long before now, anyway. He phoned Downton while out on assignment with Charles. Lady Grantham answered, and if she was disappointed he could not tell. Evelyn didn't get the sense that Mary was close to her mother, but perhaps she had shared their conversation.

The next morning Charles was not at breakfast. There was some talk of pigs and water, and when he finally emerged Charles was more than happy to regale them all with the adventures he'd had with Lady Mary the previous evening. _So I leave him alone for one measly evening, and suddenly he's the hero of the entire household?_

Charles caught Evelyn's arm at tea. "Just thought you should know I was wrong. It turns out Lady Mary is quite extraordinary." He had a certain look on his face. Evelyn knew that look, he'd felt it on himself countless times. It seemed that Charles's admiration of Mary was not simply platonic.

_No. No!_ Evelyn felt all his remaining hope fall straight to the floor. He wanted to fall straight to the floor. He didn't like her. He wanted nothing more than to end this job and leave.

Mary entered. Even with all his internal muddle, Evelyn's stomach lurched with joy at the sight of her. But she only spoke to her brother-in-law.

Lady Grantham entered. "There you are! Have you remembered Tony Gillingham's coming today?" Evelyn had met Gillingham a handful of times. He didn't like him, but he didn't dislike him either. Mary's voice rang with surprise "What? Why?" Evelyn tried to catch sight of Mary's face to learn if this news was welcome to her or not. It seemed not, but once again he could not be sure.

When Mary left the room, Evelyn excused himself as well. _I have to say something. I have to know._ "I gather you were the heroine of the pig trauma." He tried to keep his voice light and cheerful but he could feel his hands shaking.

Mary smiled, her eyes teasing him. "So I'm not aloof now."

Evelyn returned the smile. "Not at all. Only trouble for me is that I'm afraid it's increased the competition." Evelyn stopped short, horrified at what he'd just said.

This time it was Evelyn who turned and fled without waiting for a response. He couldn't even look back at her. And his hands, his hands, shook terribly now.

_I am the greatest idiot who ever lived! What the bloody hell did I say that for? Competition? It's not a competition. She's a living, breathing human being for God's sake. _

With the day nearly gone, there was no hope of them going out to survey at this hour, so Evelyn had no immediate obligations. He waited until the staircase was clear, returned to his room, and paced. Oh how he paced.

_She doesn't want me, _he told himself._ She wants Blake, or maybe Lord Gillingham, or maybe none of us. I don't know. But it isn't me. God, how I wish it was._

Evelyn felt that if he'd never read that bloody news article, never come back to Downton, never again seen_ her_, his life would be the better for it. He resolved to seek his old post with the foreign office at the end of this report. Travel—far from Mary, far from Charles—seemed like a reasonable solution for his heartache.


	7. If It Were My Choice

Evelyn stood by the fireplace sipping his tea, virtually unnoticed. Mary seemed to have eyes only for Charles, and Charles for Mary. He wanted to vomit.

The nanny came in. Both children seemed upset, and Mary's baby wailed in earnest. _Poor thing. I'm sure he'll calm once he's with his mother. _

But then something unusual happened. Before baby George could reach his mother, Charles Blake snatched him up, intent on soothing him himself. The child was not impressed, and screamed more loudly.

Evelyn tried not to roll his eyes, but frankly he was exasperated. _Are you that desperate to make a good impression, Charles?_ He felt a small surge of hope when he noted that Mary's smile appeared to be forced. But mostly he felt like the most awkward of third wheels, and when the Dowager caught his eye he turned to assist her.

The next morning at breakfast he tried to engage the others in conversation. Anything to get his mind off of Mary and Charles...even if Charles was currently sitting at the same table.

"Do you have anything planned for today?" he asked Rose.

She looked down at her strawberries. "Just…some shopping. That's all."

Lady Rose seemed reluctant to divulge her plans, so Evelyn directed the conversation to Tom Branson instead. "My car seems to have some trouble starting. I don't suppose the house chauffeur could have a look at it?"

Mr. Branson smiled. "I'd be happy to have a look at it myself. I'm quite good with cars and I do miss working with them."

Evelyn returned his smile. "Splendid. It's an Italian car, if that matters."

Mr. Branson shook his head. "Even better."

The two of them spent the afternoon inspecting the vehicle, but in the end it was determined that parts would have to be sent for. "I'm afraid you won't be driving this car back to London anytime soon, Mr. Napier."

"That does complicate things. And, please, call me Evelyn."

"Very well, Evelyn. But only if you call me Tom."

Evelyn felt a kindred spirit in Mary's brother-in-law. _Perhaps I can confide in him?_

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

Evelyn hesitated, then plunged forward. "I know Mary still mourns the loss of her husband…but…"

Tom looked intrigued. "Go on."

"Lord Gillingham who's coming to stay, is there anything between them? Or even perhaps between her and Charles. They've seemed quite…close…since the pig rescue."

Evelyn looked up to see Tom studying his face with amusement. "I'm no mind reader, but give her the time and space she needs, Evelyn. Be patient. I think she's already come around to you more than even she knows."

_More than even she knows?_

"At any rate," Tom continued, "I'm rooting for you. And so is Lady Grantham."

Evelyn felt his cheeks flush with color. "That is good to know." He could not help but grin.

That evening's dinner, however, became nearly a spectacle. The pig rescue—oh how he was sick of hearing of it—was brought up again.

"Lady Mary was perfectly splendid," Charles was nearly cooing as he said it.

But Tony Gillingham would not be outdone. "Lady Mary_ is_ perfectly splendid."

Evelyn's gaze bounced between the two men. _Could they be any more obvious? Perhaps Tom is right about being patient._

Lady Grantham turned the conversation to news from Edith and her aunt. Evelyn piped up. _Anything to change the subject._ "Oh? What's that?" He hoped he sounded convincingly interested. Once again he noticed Tom coming to Edith's aid. _Is she fit to travel, I wonder? It's all so curious._

That evening Charles informed Evelyn that they'd secured a ride back to London with Tony. As he packed, Evelyn thought back of his plans to travel, to forget about these pointless feelings for Mary. He thought also of Tom's words to have patience, that he and Lady Grantham were rooting for him. _But what good does that do if Mary's heart is with another?_

Evelyn did not sleep well that night. He thought of a thousand different ways to tell Mary goodbye. None of them felt quite right.

Lady Grantham was gracious at their send off. Evelyn made a joke that they'd be stuck here forever without Tony giving them a lift. Lady Grantham beamed at Evelyn. "Well I hope you'll be back soon."

Mary caught his eye as her mother was speaking and Evelyn smiled, then quickly looked down, nearly on instinct. When he looked up Mary had looked away. _Did that look mean something? Does she share her mother's desire to see us back soon? To see me?_

But when Mary spoke it was to Charles, not to him. "Thank you for all you've done, not in the least for the practical and muddy pig rescue."

Evelyn had felt hope growing inside him since his conversation with Tom, and now in an instant it was gone again. Tony pulled her aside as they were walking out, and Evelyn was left with Lady Grantham. Charles was there, too, as was Rose, who was sending curiously sympathetic looks in Evelyn's direction.

"We'll miss you," spoke Lady Grantham. "The house will seem rather empty."

Evelyn chose to speak candidly. "Well if it were my choice, I should never be away from here." _Maybe I haven't said it to Mary, but at least I've said it._ Lady Grantham smiled and gave Evelyn's hand a quick squeeze. Rose pursed her lips and beamed. _Is she on my side as well? _Charles, on the other hand, looked as if he was about to laugh in Evelyn's face. But before he could do so he walked over to where Mary and Tony were saying their goodbyes.

Evelyn's gaze fell on Mary, but he didn't move. He couldn't. Clearly she had plenty of attention already. He answered Lady Grantham's inquiries about their report, and nodded when she said "Well I hope you would like to come north again."

He looked down. Nothing would please him more. "When the parts arrive for my car, of course, I'll have to come here to fetch it. I do hate to be without it. Though I won't need it much in London."

He bid farewell to Lady Grantham and Rose, then, still not knowing what to say to Mary, he said nothing at all. He could not even look her direction, not with Charles and Tony fawning over her like dogs in heat. But as the car drove away from Downton he wondered if perhaps he'd made a mistake in not saying goodbye, a mistake he would come to deeply regret.


End file.
